


Poison

by BuddyTheMeanPeacock



Series: Drabbles and Oneshots (DimiClaude) [13]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Duh lol from the title, Gen, M/M, Poison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-21 23:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddyTheMeanPeacock/pseuds/BuddyTheMeanPeacock
Summary: In trying to get Dimitri to eat, Claude gets more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: Drabbles and Oneshots (DimiClaude) [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561504
Comments: 8
Kudos: 212





	Poison

It was hard to convince Dimitri to eat a healthy amount of food on his good days. Nearly impossible, on bad ones. A hard preference to isolation, or training, or aimless wandering on top of intense self-loathing made it understandably difficult to get him to eat, well, anything. Didn't help that Claude has still failed to find any food of any kind that Dimitri takes a liking to. Without many other ideas coming to mind Claude decided the best course of action would be to make eating seem like it would benefit more than just Dimitri.

It was that idea that has him in Dimitri's room, away from the pressuring eyes of dozens of stress-inducing soldiers, eating _his_ personal favorite. Pheasant was always a childhood go-to, and is still a treat to his nose and mouth alike. He didn't know if Dimitri minded it, but it seemed safe enough to bet he wouldn't; the man would probably eat the bones along with the meat, if allowed. Plus, Claude figured, if he was only going to eat if he's around Dimitri until the man felt comfortable eating without this push, he might as well _like_ what he's eating.

Dimitri sat in his chair, unimpressed by the wafting aroma of the cooked bird. 

Claude chuckled to hide his annoyance. "You're really not gonna eat a bite?" He _came_ here, he might as well _eat_. This is ridiculous. It's just _food._

He held back the urge to sigh. No, it's not that simple. He knows that. He just has to be patient, is all.

"I am not hungry," Dimitri answers, which, admittedly, is more than Claude thought he'd do.

Nonetheless he loses his battle and does heave out a sigh. He knows he can't expect immediate results, he _does_. It's only been a little over a week since they've started this routine, far too soon to expect any pattern to stick. But dammit, Dimitri might can go two days without eating anything; Claude can't. 

Probably why he's cranky, thinking on it. The bird sitting untouched - and unappreciated - in front of Dimitri also probably didn't help with that. 

Ahh, sure, why not. Claude picked up his fork and leaned over the table - slowly, to not invoke a reaction from the tense man in front of him. He got a wide eye for his movement but nothing beyond that. Good.

"Well, if you're not gonna eat it, that's just more for me," he teases, loosening a piece of meat from Dimitri's plate and taking a bite.

It was bitter. Nearly painfully so.

…

The Emperor's Blade was a strange flower. Red speckled leaves with sharp, silver petals, it was a pretty little thing that grows nearly exclusively on the small mountains that rose near Fort Merceus, their altitude the perfect height for the flower to grow. Even then it's a fairly rare find, blooming only on the peaks and only every few years. Worth finding or paying for, however, if you're the odd sort. It's a harmless thing if left as is, but boiled down and brewed it made an excellent poison. Its oderlessness and potency made up for the disgusting bitterness that accompanied its usage. It's said the effect is like being stabbed with a dagger, hence its lovely nickname.

And it seemed like someone used it for cooking oil.

"...Claude?" Dimitri's unusually cautious voice broke through Claude's musings. For the best, really. He can feel the familiar burn of his Crest pulse through his veins, as it always did when he was poisoned in Almyra. 

"Ah, sorry! Seems you were right not to eat this time," he laughs and winks. " _Only_ this time, though. The kitchen's not gonna accidentally serve bad meat every time we do this."

He got up to the wastebasket near Dimitri's desk and spat out what meat was left in his mouth. He did his best to ignore the rising heat, the ever strange feeling of pain trying to fight through his Crest. Dimitri could _not_ know there were assassins in the kitchens; he might stop eating altogether, or do something far more violent in retaliation. Claude knows he needs to find out the assassin or assassins quickly, lest someone else gets poisoned.

He needed to check something else first, however. He stepped back over to his own plate and sliced off some meat. Not biting into it, merely testing it with his tongue. Still dangerous, but at least it wasn't a mouthful. 

Bitter. 

"What are you doing?" Dimitri's voice cut through again, terse.

"Well, I have to see if my beautiful pheasant was also tarnished! Alas, it seems it is." 

He swallowed against his will. He can feel sweat crawl down his neck and back. 

"Not much to do with our dinner ruined, right? I'll head out and take this mess with me."

Dimitri didn't say anything, nor did he move to stop him. Fine by Claude; for once he appreciates this taciturn demeanor. He takes his plate and reaches over for Dimitri's-

A hand grabs his wrist.

"What's wrong?"

Claude couldn't tell if Dimitri was _worried_ or something else; the tone was too demanding to be clear. Whatever it was he didn't need to deal with it. "What do you mean?" He asks innocently, lightly tugging at the grasp to indicate his want to be free.

Dimitri did not grant it. "You're shaking."

"Well yeah, eating bad food tends to not make me healthy," Claude says easily. "I'll be fine Dimitri. Once I get rid of this I'll head over to Manuela."

Ehh, none of that was a _lie_ , per se. Not completely anyway. He just left out some pesky details is all. Poisoned meat certainly wasn't good, and he _was_ going to Manuela after this - and a few other things.

Teach told him he needed to break this habit. He will when it stops being useful.

After a moment of staring - a moment that needed all of Claude's focus to maintain his gaze - Dimitri finally decided to let him go. Claude could tell the man was reluctant to do so, but he doubted he'd do anything to act on such feelings. Still, it'd be for the best if Claude worked fast.

Instead of heading for the stairs he instead goes into his room. He spent a little more time with Dimitri than he really felt comfortable with, but his Crest should still buy him enough time before he becomes incapacitated. He was _hot,_ enough to want to strip his stuffy clothes off in hopes for relief, but true pain has yet to climb past the heat. He was okay until that happens.

Well, not really, but better than he would be.

Whoever it was that tried to poison them obviously wanted them dead. Emperor's Blade was bad enough in small doses, but _that_ much bitterness was indicative of an absolutely obscene dosage, if his knowledge was accurate. Had Claude been anyone else he'd be on the floor writhing - he thanked whatever god of fate stalled Dimitri's hand and let _him_ take the bite instead. And let him find this lovely little killer-to-be and their poison of choice; Emperor's Blade was expensive and a chore to buy and impossible to harvest himself, so once he found out who it was he can hopefully raid their stash of the elusive flower.

He went to work on the first pheasant, tearing it apart to its bare bones. Whoever did this was probably from the Empire, if their targets and poison of choice was anything to go by. They had taken in some Empire turncoats during the course of the war, so it wouldn't be surprising that one bid their time to strike. Or it was a spy directly from Edelgard herself. In fact, that was probably more likely thinking on it. The chances of a random soldier having something as fairly rare as this without garnering attention were laughably low. That meant _another_ sweep of their ranks. Just great. They were getting complacent. Truly sloppy, even. He needed to ask Shamir to more thoroughly rid of spies, despite how annoyed she'll get. He needs to do his own management better as well. A mistake like this? What was he, a child? That was the last time he remembered letting himself be taken unaware like this - he has to step it up or he'll be dead the first month back home.

He shook his head.

The pheasant bare, he worked on the next, more mindfully. Well, as mindful as his shaking hands and growing heat allowed him to be. No pain yet, though now he can feel his mind wander more than it should. Now though, he has to focus. He knew how he ate pheasant - everything edible, skin and all. Easy enough to replicate. Dimitri was another game entirely; he didn't peck at his food like Lorenz, but he didn't gulf it down either. Claude can only hope he can manage a believable middle ground to fool the people who's had to keep an eye on how much the prince ate.

Well, hopefully just one or two people needed to be fooled.

He took a deep breath in and out, swallowed again, and straightened up. Plates in hand he went for the dining hall.

Gods he was hot. His Crest saved him from attempts like this more times than he can count, but the _heat_ still boggles his mind. It was like a bad fever, except he never stopped getting hotter until he took an antidote or… the other means. He's long learned that merely splashing some cold water wouldn't help any; it just causes a weird paradox where he's both hot _and_ cold without one cancelling the other out. And then there was the "pain." He can feel it there, trying to affect him, but at the same time he can't _feel_ it. Is this what it'd feel like to stab a limb that fell asleep? It's the closest thing he could think is similar. No, wait, there was some medicine that worked kinda the same, though _their_ effects are unfortunately also dulled by his Crest. Indiscriminate, the thing is. Quite annoying when he just wants to take a sleeping tonic but Manuela _still_ won't give him the right amount. Ah, that was another thing entirely. Healers are perplexed by his fast healing and resistance and insist on wasting more time or administering the "safe" dosage to him. He wished they'd-

"Hey, Claude!"

He couldn't hold back the jump at his name being called. Apparently he made it to the dining hall without realizing. That wasn't a good sign. He turned and saw the hulking figure of Raphael, smiling wide before his eyes landed on the unfinished pheasant. He looked concerned; it kinda reminded Claude of a bear without fish. "I heard you were eatin' with Dimitri. Sure he got enough to eat?"

"Couldn't. Meat's bad. Had to stop him when he went green to the face."

Raphael grimaced like only a man familiar with food poisoning would. Luckily he didn't know how bad the poison was, or that it was Claude in trouble.

Because he was. A dull ache is starting to break through. He has to hurry. But he couldn't pass up a lucky stroke in this unlucky day. "Stay a bit, will ya? Once I give this back we should catch up."

He felt bad at the light that shined in the muscle bound man's eyes at his proposal. "Sure thing! I'll wait right here!"

Claude smiled and nodded, glad that his discomfort was seemingly still unnoticeable. He turned to the cook stationed out front. "Hey, mind bringing in the one who cooked this? I just _have_ to commend them." He smiled and winked.

The head chef chuckled at his silliness. " _Sure,_ I will. Wait here."

Waiting, Gods, he couldn't do that, not even a second. He swallowed and took a deep breath, the dull ache growing stronger, the heat steadily building nonetheless. Just a bit longer. Just a _bit_ longer -

"Here, _Your Grace,_ " the chef says teasingly. He always liked that about her; good sense of humor. He also liked the nervous hunch of the other cook's shoulders, followed by the wide-eyed stare. The epitome of shock, and perhaps horror. Fair enough. He really should have croaked by now.

"What…? How…?"

"I just had to give my thanks to the one who made this delicious meal!" Claude says, placing a hand over his heart. Elevated pulse. That was bad.

"No… No!" The poor girl - _girl_ , ha, she was probably his age - was absolutely aghast. It confused the chef, a wary side-eye thrown to the strange distress.

"The hell's your pro-"

It didn't escape Claude's notice that the chef had a belt holding a wide array of kitchen utensils. Reasonable, since the woman was always working with food. Really, he banked on the killer's thoughts going that direction too, and was rewarded with the _girl_ snatching a knife from the chef's belt and lunging at him.

" _W_ _hat the hell?!"_

 _"DIE!_ You _monster,_ you should be _dead_!"

A loud grunt and a yelp. Raphael, ever reliable, pinned the girl down in an instant. Her infinitely smaller stature couldn't hope to escape the grapple, but she struggled nonetheless, her righteous mission to help her Emperor most likely now a need to kill a beast.

"Hey," he called to the chef. She jumped, still shaken by what happened. "Go find Teach. Report what happened." He couldn't be bothered to correct the use of the nickname; she knew who he meant, and she went off after a second's pause. He turned to Raphael. "Sorry. We'll have to meet up later."

"No problem," the man assured. "I got this here. You go do what you gotta do."

Claude nodded, glad for the out. He needed it; the pain was now getting that signature sharpness. He needed to get to the infirmary. Now.

He set off, trying to keep appearances but knowing he probably wasn't doing a good job of it. Burning inside and feeling like he was stabbed - a lovely couple that made, didn't it? And now he has to walk all the way to Manuela. She was probably in the infirmary; it's where she usually was when not drinking, and she doesn't _usually_ drink at this time. Hopefully that trend sticks for today. Really, being positive, getting poisoned was the best thing that could have happened. Revealed a killer before they got anyone else, let him know how he reacts to a new poison, and possibly give him a new batch to fiddle with. He's always wanted to see how Emperor's Blade could be worked with, how it meshed with other poisons, if there was a way to grow it or a subspecies of it in easier to reach places. Could never get his hands on it though, since he couldn't afford or risk sending someone out to retrieve something so near the enemy capital. Once he gets healed up he can set some time aside to -

"You told me you were going to the infirmary."

It must be the poison making him so jumpy. He turned quickly to Dimitri - and braced himself on the wall, lightheaded. 

It was a feather that broke the camel's back, he remembers the saying going. All at once it hit him, just how hot he was, just how sharp the pain that has long spread from his stomach to the rest of him has gotten. His vision blurred, and he barely heard Dimitri shout his name before the world became black.

\---

"Stay down."

Well, aren't those two ominous words to wake up to.

Claude opened his eyes the rest of the way and was greeted with Dimitri's figure looming over him beside a bed. He slowly turned his head this way and that, taking in his surroundings. The infirmary. Ah yes, he was trying to get here for the antidote before he collapsed. That he was here now, not burning up and completely pain free, meant one thing.

He turned his head to Dimitri. "Thanks. I would've been a goner if it weren't for you."

Dimitri didn't seem to appreciate the gratitude; his eye narrowed to a harsh glare. "Why did you not come here when you said you would? You -" he gritted his teeth and looked away, "you could have…"

Claude sighed. "You saw what that stuff did to me. That had to be stopped as soon as possible." 

"You should have told me the truth instead of trying to sell me lies," he growled. "Did you truly believe I would think _you_ would be so affected by something as trifling as spoiled food?"

Claude let out a soft chuckle. "Hey, it was the only thing I could think of. You're already reluctant enough to eat anything as it is. I didn't need you to think you were right not to because of one bold killer." He sighed and looked up to the ceiling. Something he thought was annoying ended up being part of a perfect set of coincidences that led to everything being alright. The cook choosing _his_ favorite food to poison, Dimitri not eating a bite, which lead to _Claude_ \- the only person in the monastery who could live through most any poison - to taking the bite, Raphael happening to be near him, the assassin still being in the kitchen to draw out, Dimitri being there to get him to -

Wait.

"What were you doing there?"

Dimitri's eye narrowed, confusion mixing with frustration. "What?"

"Outside the dining hall. Why weren't you in your room?" Claude asked. How did Dimitri get there before him? 

A moment's pause. Then Dimitri answers, "I contemplated on whether to follow you. I left for the hallway and you weren't there. Nor were you in the dining hall to inform the staff of the rotted meat. I was making my way to the infirmary when I spotted you."

Claude closed his eyes, still lost. "Why would you follow me?"

It didn't make sense. Whether or not he thought Claude was lying to him, it shouldn't have driven him to go after him. Nothing in his behavior so far suggests that he would have done anything of the sort. At worst he should have figured Claude _would_ be fine eventually if he wasn't at that moment, if he'd thought it further than wondering why Claude lied at all. 

He opened his eyes and looked at Dimitri, waiting for an answer. 

He sucked in a breath before he could stop himself.

The man's brow was knotted upwards. His eye had discarded the anger and confusion that fueled its glare, a far softer gaze taking its place. His rigid, looming posture had backed off slightly, giving him space. He had a look Claude has yet to see in the time since they've reunited. 

"I was… concerned." Dimitri answers finally. "I have never seen you so affected by something in the past. I… hadn't known if something would happen."

Worry. Dimitri _was_ worried. For _him._ He - he didn't -

Claude looked away. "Well, thanks for that," he says. "Did any of you manage to find the killer's stash of poison?"

There was a moment of silence at the abrupt change in subject. "Yes," Dimitri answers blankly. "It's with the professor."

Claude nods. Good, good. He can ask for it later. Ground down the petals and see if a powdered form of the flower holds the same effect as its boiled one. See if the roots hold any properties of their own, or if they were safe for consumption. See if the disgusting bitterness can be toned down or even erased entirely without ridding the poison of its potency. See if there was a way for him to create a fast acting cure for it with what he has. Well, first he has to see how much he has to work with before anything else. He should be released soon enough, a day or two at most with his Crest delaying the poison's effect. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the flower and get to work on it.

Hopefully it can rid his mind of that look of worry. It confused him. Made him feel strange in a way his Crest couldn't combat. He wanted it gone. Once he can focus on something else it'll fade away. For now he lays in silence with Dimitri, waiting for the man to leave so he can think.

Time passes. Much more than Claude thought would. His eyes started to flutter - he was more fatigued than he anticipated. 

Dimitri was still sitting next to him as he went to sleep, watching over him.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I'll have Claude's mind wander A Little Bit
> 
> Claude: :) *makes the fic 3k+*
> 
> Me: Oh


End file.
